


Numbness Is Bliss

by Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amethyst is so fucking concerned, Amethyst is trying, Angst, Bad Ending, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Drunk Steven Universe, Drunk angry ramblings, Drunk blackmail, Drunk ramblings, Gen, Not A Happy Ending, One Shot, Post-Episode: s06e10 Prickly Pair, Steven Universe Future, Steven Universe Has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Steven drinks alcohol, Steven gets drunk, Steven gets trashed, Underage Drinking, Unhappy Ending, Vague ending honestly, Wasted Steven Universe, Worried Amethyst, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer
Summary: The world was frighteningly numb right then. His mind was too far gone to register anything. But he did know that that was what he'd come here for, what he picked up the bottle for. And so he rejoiced, letting a blissful, lopsided smile spread across his face as the room spun him again. It should have been scary, except Steven wasn't scared, for the first time in what felt like forever.-----Set between Prickly Pair and In Dreams. Steven gets fed up with his emotions, decides to take the edge off.(TW: Underage Drinking/Alcohol Abuse)
Relationships: Amethyst & Steven Universe
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	Numbness Is Bliss

Steven stumbled forward, ripping his jacket off and discarding it on the floor as he walked. His flip-flops, occasionally, would briefly disconnect from his feet, the straps getting hooked and making him stagger as he moved. Every so often, the hybrid would deliver a harsh kick to whatever it was that seemed to be halting him from moving, and he couldn't fight back the grim satisfaction upon either sending the objects flying, or breaking them where they stood. There was nothing but literal pieces of junk in here, anyway; Amethyst's room was just filled, piled to the brim with things he knew she never even used. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen her come in here, and even then, he'd never really been able to understand why she kept all this trash in her room in the first place. When he was younger, he recalled, it hadn't bothered him. He hadn't cared, it had made her happy, so what was the big deal? Pearl complained often, but it was only at that moment, years later, that Steven understood why. Right then, with the gems at Little Homeworld and the house empty, the only thing slowing Steven down and hindering his ability to make it to his destination was the trash he kept tripping over.

He delivered another harsh kick to a broken microwave he could've easily stepped around, dislodging it from the ground and watching it tumble and crash back into another pile of useless junk. Old, torn furniture, piled and stacked in ways Steven knew couldn't possibly be safe. It wobbled dangerously with the force, and the hybrid curled his lips back and sighed through his teeth, continuing on his way. Wasn't like she'd notice her junk all over the floor, right? She had so much trash littering her room, he doubted she kept track of the piles she had laying around. As long as it was behind him, and as long as he was closer to finding what he came for, he didn't care about the mess. Amethyst wouldn't care about the mess, so he didn't, either.

"Besides, if she actually kept the important stuff in a more convenient location, this wouldn't be much of a problem," the hybrid growled to himself, kicking what looked like half off an ottoman out of his way and giving the area a quick once-over. He'd been wandering the endless pit of Amethyst's room for what felt like forever, and he didn't think he was any closer to finding what he'd come for. And it irked him, because the more time dragged on, the more he was about ready to just give up and go lay in his bed and wallow in pity. This was the first time, since the incident with Cactus Steven, that he'd been able to actually drag himself out of bed to do something. The first time he'd finally gotten sick of just laying under his blanket and trying to ignore the world, trying to make it all go away. And, finally, Steven had just gotten fed up. Tired. Tired of sitting in bed and feeling frustrated, and confused, and angry and hurt all the time.

The solution he'd come up with had been so simple, he wondered how he didn't think of it sooner. Feeling was the problem. Feeling all these stupid _human_ emotions he couldn't get rid of. This was a human problem he was having, and he knew that very well. The anger, the resentment, the steady unbottling of every carefully concealed-emotion he tucked and hid away. It was a human problem, and so Steven had decided, he was going to remedy it like a human. There was something… ironic, he mused, as he kept walking, about sneaking into his alien friend's room for something so undeniably human, for reasons that were all the same as that.

But she was the only one who had what he needed. At the very least, she was the only one who had what he needed that was easily-accessible on such short notice. Still ironic, but very lucky.

 _Finding_ what he needed took another few minutes of walking and cursing out random objects Amethyst had littered around her room, but it was more than worth it when he finally found the stacks upon stacks of shelves just ahead of him. Some of them were tipped over sideways, or leaning against each other. And, sitting on those shelves were bottles; bottles upon bottles, filled with liquids of many, many different colors. Some of the bottles, he couldn't even see through. Some were tipped over on their sides, others were actually upside down somehow, sitting upright on the caps and wobbling as the hybrid approached. He didn't care enough to try and fix the disorganized mess, though he couldn't bite back his irritation this time. Even this was as messy as the rest of her room. Even this, she didn't care enough to even try to keep organized. Scowling, Steven reached up to one of the shelves and selected a bottle that looked like it was about ready to fall off of the edge, feeling its heavy, warm weight in the palms of his hands as he turned it over to inspect the label, finally feeling a glimmer of satisfaction as he scanned it.

"Whiskey…" He trailed off, lightly thumbing the wrapper around the top of the bottle. It didn't take him too long to be able to tear it off, and pulling the cork out wasn't a problem for him. Sweeping his gaze around, he also realized Amethyst didn't happen to have any cups in here. What did she do, drink it straight from the bottle? Was that what you were supposed to do? After a moment, he brought it up to his face, barely pressing his nose against the bottle just to catch a whiff of the scent. All things considered, it wasn't too bad - kind of strong, for sure, but not _bad_. Actually, the smell kind of made the top of his mouth water, made him want to take the plunge, tilt the bottle back and drink it while he was still in the mood to do so. And so, the hybrid did.

At first, it was fine. He managed to swallow a mouthful of the liquid before the taste of it actually set in. But when that happened, the hybrid found himself choking, fumbling with the bottle as he staggered back into one of the shelves. It _burned_ , that was the worst part - it burned his throat, his chest, and he could even feel the sting all the way down to his stomach when the liquid settled. His tongue hurt, more notably; the whiskey was strong, and it lingered in his mouth like months-old apple juice. He blinked back the tears that instinctively rose to his eyes, swallowing a mouthful of his own saliva and feeling his entire body shudder at the taste that followed. For a split second, he wondered if such a taste was even worth it. If giving himself the relief he needed, the split-second reprieve from the outside world, was worth the burning feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach, the nausea that was creeping up from his gut to his chest. He wondered if he should just put the bottle back and leave - but he was already here, wasn't he? He was already committed to this, and he was absolutely tired of running away from everything. He'd come here _for_ something, he had _found_ that something, so he was going to see it through.

The first few sips, he continued to cough and choke, strangling on the harsh taste of the whiskey. But, steadily, he grew almost numb to it. The liquid went down easily, his throat numbed by the burns he'd already endured. When this happened, he started swallowing down mouthfuls, taking as much of the liquid as he can and forcing it down. The taste was old news at that point - he had stopped tasting it a few sips ago anyway. He was growing less and less _aware_ of what he was doing. He knew he was drinking, but he forgot how long he'd been tilting the bottle up, how long he'd been swallowing the liquid as fast as it was pouring into his mouth.

He only stopped when he couldn't swallow anymore for the time being, lowering the bottle and rubbing harshly at the liquid trailing down the sides of his mouth, spilling through the cracks in his lips. He did his best to lick up what he could, rubbing away what he couldn't catch. A few drops didn't make a difference to him right then, and he wasn't going to pretend they did. What mattered was what was left in the bottle, and he still had quite a way to go before it was empty. The room tilted dangerously under his feet as he looked up from the bottle, and he stopped and stared for a second. The piles of garbage and trash and junk were blurry, and weren't getting any easier to see no matter _how_ many times he blinked his eyes and tried to focus on them. They were spinning, too, he noticed. It was actually kind of funny, watching everything seem to spiral and clash together. He almost thought they were going to fall, but they remained standing. Balancing, somehow, even as the room spun them around. Despite himself, the hybrid laughed. The sound felt so far away it could have come from someone else, but he knew it was him.

After a moment, Steven decided to give his legs a break, sinking himself to the floor and letting the bottle rest beside him for a second, fingers wrapped firmly around the neck as the warm liquid patiently waited to be drunk again. The strength it was taking to keep himself on his feet was _extraordinarily_ draining. He hadn't felt like this since Spinel had hit him with the rejuvenator, but it wasn't quite like that either. He didn't feel tired-weak, just… weak. Dizzy and disoriented-weak. The constant, vibrant humming of his gem was unusually absent; the shimmering he could usually feel was gone. He couldn't feel the familiar pulsing through his veins, the power that usually emanated from the pink Diamond wedged into his stomach. Had he been able to care at that moment, had that _not_ been what he'd come here for in the first place, the hybrid might have been concerned. Instead, he laughed again, and - to celebrate his victory, ecstatic that his plan had worked - lifted the bottle back to his lips for another sip. He hiccuped after he swallowed, running his tongue over his lips and letting out a satisfied hum.

The world was frighteningly numb right then. His mind was too far gone to register anything. But he did know that that was what he'd come here for, what he picked up the bottle for. And so he rejoiced, letting a blissful, lopsided smile spread across his face as the room spun him again. It should have been scary, except Steven wasn't scared, for the first time in what felt like forever.

He sucked on the bottle like a baby might do, coaxing as much whiskey into his mouth as he could. He figured out how to stop the pour with his lips so he could swallow without quite lowering the bottle, and after that, everything kind of just clicked. He stopped every so often to breathe and wipe away the little bit of liquid that managed to trail down the side of his jaw. And he paused to let some of the nausea settle, too - drinking too fast, he realized, made his stomach churn sickeningly, but it wasn't enough to stop him from drinking just as enthusiastically as he had been only seconds before. He just waited the storm out, let it pass, then went back to swallowing down mouthful after mouthful without the sense to stop himself. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't think he could have right then, even if he _did_ want to.

He felt good. He felt _so fucking good._

It could have been forever, before he reached the bottom of the bottle. He didn't even have the chance to savor the last few drops, not realizing that it was empty until he sucked again, and nothing came out. The hybrid jolted in surprise, fumbling with the bottle and lowering it with surprisingly steady fingers to get a good look at it. The haze across his vision cleared, if only for a moment, and the numbness his mind had been trapped in diminished enough for him to realize he'd just drank a whole bottle of alcohol by himself. Granted, it wasn't like the bottle was _huge;_ by itself, it was probably about the length of… from his shoulder to his forearm? Not an enormous bottle, so the fact that he'd managed to drink it all on himself shouldn't have been so startling to him. But the haze returned quickly, the blissful numbness he'd become so reliant on in such a short amount of time, and he let the bottle slip from his hands and turned to heave himself up so that he could grab another. He was feeling so great; he didn't want it to end yet.

It took him a moment, searching through the bottles, to be able to find what he was looking for. He wasn't interested in any of the other stuff, but he made a mental note to explore other tastes eventually. Right then, however, he was a whiskey man, and tonight was a whiskey night. So he selected another bottle that resembled the first, taking a few seconds to scan the label again. He gave up, since everything past the 'w' was blurry beyond recognition, but it didn't matter. Like before, he ripped the wrapping off and popped the cork out, and shoved the bottle in his mouth, tilting his head back and letting the liquid pour in naturally, swallowing what he could. The room spun him again, tilting dangerously enough to finally knock him off of his feet; he fell backwards, shoulders hitting the hard ground below him, teeth knocking against the bottle. Almost choking on the liquid, he ripped it away from him to give himself a second to breathe, confused and a little frustrated by the sudden loss of balance. He wasn't feeling so good, then. Now he was tired, feeling like he was going to pass out. At least, feeling like he was falling asleep, but he didn't want to fall asleep, and he wasn't giving his body permission to do so. He writhed for a few seconds in silence before heaving himself into a sitting position with a groan.

Of course, he kept drinking. Figured the constant flow of alcohol might help numb him again. Holding himself up with one hand, and holding the bottle with the other, he swallowed mouthful after mouthful, and grew more and more frustrated when it didn't make him feel any better. He was still dizzy and disoriented, but it didn't feel as nice as it had before. Now he just wanted to lay down and not do anything, but he hadn't come here for that. If he wanted to lay down and just stew in his own anger, he could've just stayed at home, in bed, glaring at the holes in the walls and ceiling and remembering everything that had happened the night before. No, he didn't want to do that. He came here to forget, to let everything else go. He wanted to drink until he didn't even remember _what_ it was he had come here to forget. He wanted to drink until he didn't know where he was, or who he was. He wanted to drink until he didn't remember his own _name._

Man, he was getting hot. Angrily, he kicked his flip flops off and fumbled with his shirt one-handed, yanking it up over his head without disconnecting the bottle from his lips. But he eventually had to lower it to push his arms out of the sleeves, tossing the shirt to the side. He'd deal with that later. Damn, why was Amethyst's room so hot? It hadn't been like this a second ago, but Steven could feel the sweat already beading around his head, slipping down his back. He was just getting angrier. He didn't get it, didn't understand. He'd felt so good before.

He lowered the bottle after a moment, staring down at it in silent frustration. He was angry. Scowling, and turning the whiskey over in his hands a few times, he was about ready to cave and lay back and keep drinking despite his own fury, but he didn't have the chance to do so.

Actually, he had just barely lifted the bottle to his lips when it was suddenly wrenched away from him. The hybrid didn't even have a chance to yell out in surprise, or protest. He did clumsily try to reach for it, but he was too busy looking for whatever the hell had taken it away from him to be able to get a grip on it enough. It was easily pulled out of his hands, and Steven finally snapped his gaze up, catching a blurry glimpse of purple. It took all of five seconds for the hybrid to actually really register who he was seeing, and that she looked absolutely pissed off. "What, the _hell?!"_ Amethyst yelled, turning and chucking the bottle away from both of them. Steven paused and leaned slightly to the side, staring after it, as Amethyst turned back to him. "What the hell, Steven?! Did you- are you- how much did you drink?!"

Steven tilted his head back to stare up at her, eyes narrowing faintly. She was still blurry, but it was undoubtedly _her_. Oddly enough, it made him… a little bit angrier than he'd been before. Actually, it pissed him off a lot. She was legit yelling at him for this? She was the one that had all the alcohol in her room. Besides, she was always trying to get Pearl to let him drink, anyway. She had absolutely no right to pretend to be actually, genuinely upset at him for drinking now. He wasn't doing anything _she_ didn't do. "Lots," he told her lazily, frowning. "I'm mad at you…"

Amethyst stared at him for a moment, almost looking confused. Then her eyes darted past him, to the shelves of alcohol, and then over to the empty bottle Steven had finished off. The hybrid followed her gaze, and offered a half-hearted shrug toward the purple gem when she looked back over at him, a somewhat horrified look crossing her face now. "Steven, oh my god, you…" She shuffled forward, reaching down for him. He didn't have the strength to fight her, letting her grab him under the arms and pull him up to his feet. But he finally managed to shift enough to push her away from him once he was standing, shoving her a few steps backwards and staggering a little, grabbing onto one of the shelves instead to keep his balance with a huff. The purple gem seemed surprised, but not too stunned to step forward and approach him again. "Come on, let's go," she insisted, reaching out to him. "We're going to-"

Steven smacked her hand away, admittedly with a little less force than he'd intended to do so. "Y'know, 'f you're gonna m… mother me, maybe you should turn into my mom again," he taunted, watching Amethyst recoil immediately. Her pupils shrank, staring at him, and the hybrid managed to form another lopsided grin at her, though he was much less ecstatic this time. "Yeah, I 'member that. Both times." The hybrid swayed slightly, pausing and fumbling for the shelves again. He turned away from her after a moment, searching through the bottles. "And…"

"Hey…" Amethyst's hand lightly gripped his arm, tugging him away from the shelves. Briefly, he thought about turning and hitting her, pushing her away so she'd finally get the hint not to touch. But just as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it was gone as she went on, slowly, carefully, "buddy, c'mon, you're drunk. Let's just get you out of here and back to the house, okay?"

Steven wrenched his arm away after a moment, scrunching his face up in a half-volatile expression. But, after a few seconds, he paused and let it crumble again. His anger didn't diminish - if anything, it pulsed a little stronger as he stared at her, flicking his gaze across her blurry face and wrinkling his nose at her again after a moment. "Yeah, I know I'm _drunk_ , Ame. That was like… kinda the entire kinda point of comin' in here in the first place, if that wasn't obvious enough. S'not like I came in here 'cause I like being in here," he remarked lazily. He swayed again, gripping the shelf a little tighter. She reached for him again, silent now, and the hybrid heaved a sigh through his teeth as she pulled him forward, away from the alcohol. "Don't wanna hurt you," he warned half-heartedly, stumbling as she led him over to where he'd discarded his shirt on the floor. "But m'angry at you and you're makin' me really mad right now."

Amethyst let out a quiet sigh, leaning down to grab the shirt. "Why are you mad at me?"

"I 'unno." Steven watched as she turned back to him, shaking the shirt out and reaching up to help him put it on. He let her pull it over his head and tug it down a little, but he froze when something brushed up against his gem. He didn't know whether it was her hand or the shirt, and he didn't care. It was enough, as it was, for him to wrench himself away and stagger backwards away from her, clasping a protective hand over his gem and letting out a yelp as he slammed backwards into one of the shelves. A brief flicker of panic finally ignited in his chest, the fear that had been so blissfully absent for so long, as he tried to keep himself from falling backwards.

"Hey- hey, what the hell?" Amethyst rushed forward to steady him, but the hybrid recoiled at her touch. He writhed and twisted away from her, curling his fingers tighter around his gem. Her gaze darted downwards, just for a second - and he watched the brief flicker of confusion that crossed her face - and she held her hands up in front of her after a second, palms facing him. "Hey. It's just me, man. I'm just trying to help you so we can get outta here, alright? It's okay."

Steven sneered at her in response, but he let his stomach go in favor of thrusting his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, fumbling with it for a while before he managed to yank it down over himself again, making sure it was covering his gem as much as it should be able to. "I don' wanna leave," he told her harshly after a few seconds. "Don' wanna deal with everyone else."

For the first time, he watched a flicker of realization cross Amethyst's face as she paused. Then she faltered, looking almost frustrated as she ran her fingers through her hair, and took a step toward him. Steven narrowed his eyes, but he let her approach him this time. "Pearl and Garnet are still at Little Homeworld, anyway," she offered. "You can just go to your room. But you have to face them eventually, little man, I mean- Pearl's not gonna be happy that you were drinking. _I'm_ not happy you were drinking, so you know Pearl isn't going to be…" The purple gem sighed. Steven frowned at that, giving Amethyst enough time to be able to grab his arm and pull him forward. He followed after her, stumbling as she wrapped an arm around him - shifting it, even to loop it around him a few times - to be able to lead him off. "I still can't believe you actually…"

"You're the one tha'ss always try'na get me drunk," Steven muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Not really, though," Amethyst protested. But her cheeks flushed a darker shade of purple, a somewhat embarrassed look crossing her face as she glanced at him. "And not recently. I mean, I… yeah, okay. I was a jerk back then, alright? At least I can admit that now. But it's not like I would actually encourage this," she huffed out a somewhat shaky laugh, and swallowed. "You're way too young to be drinking, dude. You're like, not even an adult yet. And, I mean, legally you've gotta be at least twenty-one to be able to drink. Oh, Greg's gonna be pissed…" She added that last part quietly, under her breath, but Steven caught it easily anyway.

"Don' tell them," the hybrid slurred, trying to blink past the blurriness now as he looked at her, as if he could shake the exhaustion clouding his mind, the fuzziness that had wrapped around him.

Amethyst actually scoffed at that, looking ahead. "You know I have to-"

"'S your alcohol," Steven warned. "Your room. N'Pearl knows you've always been try'na get me to drink. They're gonna be mad at me, f'sure, but they're gonna be mad at you too, right? 'Cause you're the one that told me about alcohol. 'Cauuuse you're a bad, bad influence on me, n' everybody else knows it as well as I do, right?" The hybrid paused, letting his mouth gape wide in a violent yawn. Amethyst slowed a little, and her grip seemed to tighten around him. Not to the point where it was uncomfortable, though he wasn't exactly stoked she was touching him. He could feel her arm pressing against his gem through his shirt, and it frustrated him. Stumbling forward, he shifted under her touch and raised a hand protectively, managing to push it up under her arm a little to be able to press his fingers over the gemstone. Amethyst glanced over at him, looking confused again - and somewhat worried - before glancing ahead again.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," she muttered after a moment, heaving out another sigh. "The good news is, with the hangover you're gonna have, you're totally not gonna drink ever again."

"We'll see about that," Steven declared, and Amethyst didn't answer. "I like drinkin'."

"Well, I'll tell you what," Amethyst said suddenly after a moment. "I won't tell anybody about today. Not Pearl, not Garnet, not Greg. It'll just be our little secret, between the two of us." She paused, glancing over at him, and narrowed her eyes. "But if I hear that you've had a drop of alcohol after today before your twenty-first birthday, Steven, I swear, I'm going to tell them. Bad influence or not, I'd rather both of us get in trouble than you get into something as stupid as drinking, just like-" The purple gem seemed to stop for a second, going rigid. Then, just as quickly, she had shut her mouth and quickened her pace, pulling him along with a frown.

Steven didn't respond, staring at her until they reached the door. Her gem pulsed to open it, and Steven let out a tired grunt as he was pulled forward, stepping through the doorway. The cold, familiar air of the temple hit him all at once, a nice change from the heat he'd been trapped in, but he still wanted to rip his shirt off again. He _wanted_ to go back for that bottle of whiskey he hadn't finished, but Amethyst had thrown it to god-knows-where, and he doubted she'd let him back into her room anytime soon. He wondered if she could lock it somehow. He hoped not.

She helped him up the stairs and into his room, and Steven stumbled to his bed the second he was released, falling backwards into it and crossing his hands over his gem with a scowl.

Amethyst leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, mommy," Steven remarked, squeezing his eyes shut before he could see her reaction. He was tired, but not really sleepy-tired. But he kept his eyes shut for a long time. A very long time. Long enough for him to hear her footsteps finally retreat, leaving his door open as she walked downstairs. He didn't hear the door open, or the warp pad activated. She was staying there, likely to make sure he didn't try anything else. He wasn't getting any more alcohol right then, but it didn't really matter. Everything was numb. Disoriented and fuzzy, but still numb. And he liked the numbness. He didn't have to think before he spoke - at least, he didn't _think_ to think before he spoke, and right then, he was blissfully free of the guilt that would have consumed him. The only problem was, it didn't take away the anger anymore. He was even angrier now than he had been. He just didn't care enough to be able to stifle it anymore, but he didn't mind _that_ at all.

Curling his fingers tighter around his gem, the hybrid finally sank back completely, letting the tension drain from his muscles and basically letting himself melt into his bed with a quiet sigh. For now, he'd humor Amethyst. He'd apologize later, when he felt like apologizing. He'd figure out how to regain her trust enough to put all of this behind him, when he cared enough to do that for both of their sakes. He'd deal with it, he decided, when he felt guilty enough to do so. Right then, though, he was going to enjoy the lack of guilt while he could.

All things considered, he still felt better than he had in awhile. Anger or not.


End file.
